


To Shatter Marble (DISCONTINUED)

by toasty_ben



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Complicated speech, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Historical, How Do I Tag, Love at First Sight, M/M, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Smitten boys in love, Victor is Tired, Victor is a sculptor, Victor's not having it, Yuuri is a poet, it's cute, just me being extra, not really - Freeform, yuuri and phichit are roomates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toasty_ben/pseuds/toasty_ben
Summary: "Sir!" The man repeated, his voice faint "What on earth are you doing?" "I am removing the arms of this monument.""I see that sir, but why with a shovel?" Said the man, who had now moved to lean over the terrace- casting petals onto the streets below.  Victor pondered this for a moment. Truthfully, he had picked up whatever sharp object that was closest at the time, and continued out the door. Now looking down at the chipped, and ruined blade of the handheld shovel- he realized that he must’ve looked quite foolish.“I don’t know.”The Victorian AU in which a sculptor falls in love with the beautiful little poet who coincidentally lives next door.





	To Shatter Marble (DISCONTINUED)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is in fact- my first time writing on Ao3! Iv'e written on fanfiction, though I will admit that everything there is shit. Characters may be a bit out of character? I tried to make the dialogue as accurate to the timeline as possible, though I hope it's not too difficult to understand :))  
> Please, enjoy!

It was the evening on which Victor was to close the opening display on one of his pieces. 

A towering woman of stone- cold and monumental. Placed at the center of his dilapidated art studio- he couldn't say that he was particularly fond of the ivory woman. In fact, he could even go as far to say that he loathed her. 

 

She was certainly beautiful, no doubt one of his finest works. The statue was the sole reason as to why his small catering business had skyrocketed at all. Her beauty had captivated critics- enchanted passerby with her flawlessness. Smooth stone and perfect immaculateness. 

Perhaps that was why he wished to destroy the bust in the first place- it's perfection. Like plastic, or fraudulent lashes. She represented tantalizing beauty among lust-deprived men and wealthy young girls of envy. Practically the embodiment of sexual appeal- and yet, she was nothing more than stone- she had been created from the need to improve. There was no evidence of inspiration, or for that, even pristine affection carved into her eyes of silver. Empty. 

 

And Victor hated it. 

 

People came and went- to gawk at his creation. With each bout of praise, or small gasp of wonder directed towards her- the more he wished to chisel away at her features. And though even critics had yet to condemn the imperfections of her bleak, unseeing eyes- Victor could bear the sight of her no longer; and so he had taken it upon himself to destroy his piece. 

It was only natural, he reasoned. Something that had taken him weeks upon weeks to perfect- and still, it only disappointed him. To Victor, the utter lack of emotion that the statue emitted was like spotting a grey hair- the beginning of something that he was to dread. Slowly, yet surely- he was beginning to feel his passion and inspiration for sculpting slip through his fingers like sand. 

Beauty in itself was becoming much harder for him to perceive now- 

It was almost twilight when the desire to destroy the monument struck him into such a devoutness- to truly follow through with the act. 

Victor's studio was a modest flat above a cobbler shop that bled into a wide alleyway- bustling with a plethora of different attractions and markets. It was among the poorer areas of Edinburgh- beggars littered here and there. It was to be expected, of course, Victor was no wealthy aristocrat. 

Yet, in the vast emptiness that consumed the streets now- there was hardly a soul in sight. A few intoxicated strangers here and there- but Victor doubted anyone would care to watch for the demolition he was to inflict upon his wretched creation. 

Silently, he opened the doors of his home, then- with his hands firmly grasped at her arms- he dragged the heavy marble through the entryway and onto the balcony without a moment’s hesitation, his arms burning against the rough surface. 

After going down several staircases, the stone against metal making such a terrible sound, Victor nearly abandoned his plans then, to cease the awful grating! When at last he had reached the street, he released several heavy breaths, before dragging her furthermore a few yards away from the staircase. 

It was terribly dark, just as he had suspected. To his right lay another vast wall of tenement's, a few windows lit by dim candlelight, the rest dark. He briefly considered the chance of disturbing those around him, but that thought vanished as simply as it had surfaced. The city itself was a constant flurry of noise and disturbances. A stranger in the night would make little difference among the continuous fights and drunken chortling often heard from the streets. 

A small gardening shovel held in his left hand, his right clenched into a tight fist. This was all so melodramatic, really it was. Though, he couldn't help but feel giddy with excitement, as the unseeing eyes of the stone bust bored into his, cold and condescending. 

She was cruel. 

Yet he was crueler. 

 

THWACK! 

 

With a raised hand- the garden shovel clenched within grasping fingers- he assaulted the stone with such a force, that the blade itself had almost broken clean off. With a growl, of either frustration or anger, his head reeling, Victor raised the shovel once more- 

 

"Sir!" 

 

A voice from one of the tenement's above startled him from his blind rage. Dropping the shovel in surprise, he swiveled around to face whoever’s voice had called to him. The look on his face, almost admirable how quickly he turned to sight the mysterious voice! Abandoning the shovel from where it had tumbled, Victor peered up at the apartments above. 

There, seated by a terrace amid great wildflowers and vibrant poppy's - was a man. No doubt the owner to the voice, as he was gazing down at Victor with the most obvious look of bewilderment. Victor, at a loss of what to do, waved. 

"Sir!" The man repeated, his voice faint "What on earth are you doing?" 

"I am removing the arms of this monument." 

"I see that sir, but why with a shovel?" Said the man, who had now moved to lean over the terrace- casting petals onto the streets below. 

Victor pondered this for a moment. Truthfully, he had picked up whatever sharp object that was closest at the time, and continued out the door. Now looking down at the chipped, and ruined blade of the handheld shovel- he realized that he must’ve looked quite foolish. 

 

“I don’t know.” He replied sincerely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

 

A tepid silence lay between the two men- the man on the balcony, who’s features were unrecognizable within the folds of darkness- and Victor, who felt annoyance grip him. Who was this man to console him? 

 

There were the sounds of hurried footsteps and retching from further in the alley. 

 

The man only hummed in response, after what seemed to be an eternity of awkward anticipation, before leaning over his railing, once more, to peer down at something below. 

 

He must’ve noticed the destruction inflicted the once lovely marble woman’s features- for the mortified squawk that left his lips had Victor holding a hand to his head in shame. 

The words he uttered after, however, surprised him. 

 

“Your arms! How ghastly! Are you alright, sir?” 

 

Indeed, looking down at his forearms now he noticed the many cuts and bruises that littered the fair skin. Gruesome slashes and small nick's alike, it was a wonder how he hadn’t noticed it before. Casting his gaze up towards the man once more, who of which had already begun scaling the winding stairs to the streets- Victor felt a wave of nausea course through him. How mortifying! 

Indifferent to the blood slowly seeping into his trousers, Victor waved rapidly at the man, who of which was approaching with the urgency of a sow to it’s young. 

 

“No- no need, truly! ‘Tis but a scratch-!” 

He stammered, attempting to rid himself of the slowly blossoming smudges of crimson across his forearms- to no avail. 

 

At this the man only snorted, refuting Victor’s persistent protests with a flick of his wrist- rags and bandages gripped within the hold of the digits. 

When did he even have the time to grab those- 

 

In seconds the man from the floral terrace was there- his features much more distinct within close proximity. A slender fellow with a tip-tilted nose, skin of terra-cotta, and eyes the color of slate. Even with a voice of aplomb, his eye’s reflected something like perturbance. 

“Pooh!” he exclaimed once he had taken ahold of Victor’s injured arm- to his own displeasure. “A scratch you say? I think otherwise! How did you ever accomplish such an injury upon yourself?” 

“Well, I-” 

 

“Oh, never you mind!” the man interrupted him before he could utter another word “I’m sure whatever excuse you have shall be plenty gumptions.” 

 

Victor snapped his mouth shut. Whatever he was going to say before then had crawled back to the tip of his tongue and died. Regardless of who this man was, or the fact that they had just only met, he felt a bit intimidated by his almost motherly figure. 

The man- after swaddling his patient’s arms in an excessive amount of cloth, sighed deeply- his eyes trailing over Victor’s now tightly wrapped forearms. 

Without another word, the man held out a hand- hardly a silhouette in the night. 

 

“Won’t you let me care for you in my home?” he asked “The laceration on your left requires stitches- and I daresay, I’d expect you to ignore it and have the wound proceed to infection.” 

This surprised Victor- who shot the man a puzzled look. 

“Why are you helping me?” 

 

The man only laughed- a short, light thing; his eyes crinkling and a mocha hand coming to rest on Victor’s shoulder. 

“Because I cannot bear the stench of another dead man in the alleyway!” 

His expression seemed to droop. 

“Ah- that was crass. Nevertheless- do let me tend to you, sir? It’s the least I can do-” 

With that, the man inclined a hand up towards the terrace of flowers behind them- bringing Victor’s attention to the stone bust of a woman perched on the rail. 

One of his own; he remarked with a twinge of surprise. He hadn’t remembered ever meeting the man, much less, selling him one of his pieces. 

 

A smile graced his lips- taking the other man’s hand in his own, and shaking it firmly. 

“Very well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Tell me what you think in the comments! I'm happy to take constrictive criticism! :D  
> I don't know how often i'll update, but I'll try my best!


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